by Anita Hughes
The last few weeks had moved at a dizzying pace. Hallie returned from her buying trip with crystal chandeliers and ornate Persian rugs. The paintings hung on the walls in their new space, and Hallie began adding silk ottomans and Louis XIV chairs. She loved going to work, admiring the Regency sofas she discovered in a castle in Tuscany, the Murano glass so delicate she was afraid it would break in her hands.
Hallie and Pliny carved out time together. He drove into the hills and took her to La Tabla for dinner. The owner had known Pliny since he was six years old. He sat at the table, admiring Hallie’s beauty and offering extra glasses of red wine.
On the weekends Pliny drove Hallie and Portia around the lake in his motorboat, stopping at different villages to pick up fresh olives or loaves of garlic bread. He was happiest when he was on the water, bouncing over the waves so Hallie and Portia clutched their seats and screamed with laughter.
The hardest part of the last few weeks had been Hallie’s call to Constance. She took the phone out on the balcony, and dialed Constance’s number.
“Darling!” Constance beamed. “It’s been too long. I was afraid you’d been swept up by Lake Como and forgotten how to speak English.”
“My Italian is terrible,” Hallie confessed. “Everyone at the villa speaks English.”
“How is Portia? Francesca said she and Riccardo were back together.”
“They were.” Hallie hesitated. “But she’s filed for divorce.”
“Divorce!” Constance gasped. “What did Sophia say?”
“Sophia is not happy,” Hallie murmured. “But Pliny is supporting her. Riccardo wasn’t good for Portia.”
“No woman enjoys being married to a gigolo,” Constance agreed. “Marriage demands fidelity, that’s why it’s written in the vows. You’ll never have that problem with Peter; he only has eyes for you.”
Hallie took a deep breath. “Peter visited on his way to Paris. I ended it.”
“You did what?” Constance’s voice was sharp.
“I broke up with him,” Hallie replied in a rush. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here, or what I’ll do after. I can’t string him along.”
“A career is important, but it is no replacement for love, marriage, and family.”
“I don’t think I was really in love with Peter,” Hallie said lamely.
Constance was silent for so long, Hallie was afraid she had hung up. “You’re like your mother, chasing some European fairy tale. You belong in San Francisco with a good man by your side. You’re not going to find someone like Peter.”
“I’m not looking.” Hallie blinked away tears.
“Maybe not now,” Constance warned. “But when the glamour and glitz wears off you will be.”
Hallie couldn’t tell Constance she wasn’t looking for glitz and glamour; she was getting to know her father. Hallie imagined Constance absorbing the news and knew her fragile health couldn’t stand it. She smiled bravely and hung up, feeling severely chastised.
Hallie avoided Francesca’s calls, and texted her back, using the time difference and her long hours at work as excuses for her lack of communication. She still didn’t know if or when she could talk to her, so she buried her in the back of her mind, under the many decisions she had to make at work and the daily activity at the villa.
Portia, miraculously, had walked into her old ballet school and emerged a dance teacher. Madame LaFarge finally gave in to her arthritis and turned her classes over to younger instructors. Portia taught two classes a day. She pirouetted around the villa in the evenings, chattering about the seven-year-old girl who would be a prima ballerina, the twelve-year-old who shouldn’t be allowed near a pair of pointe shoes.
“Where are you going?” Portia pranced into Hallie’s bedroom. She wore her new uniform of black tights and a brightly colored leotard. One of Pliny’s fisherman’s sweaters hung over the leotard and she wore satin slippers on her feet.
“To the farmers’ market,” Hallie replied. “Unless it rains.”
“It never rains in September,” Portia said dismissively. “You smell too good to be going to the market. Is that Obsession?”
“Am I wearing too much?” Hallie sniffed her wrist.
“Depends on who you’re trying to impress.” Portia sat cross-legged on the bed.
“Angus is taking me, as friends.” Hallie checked her hair in the mirror. “I’ve never been to the markets in Tremezzo.”
“You’re going on a date?” Portia raised her eyebrows.
Hallie blushed. “Picking out tomatoes and radishes in the afternoon is not a date.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with interior design.” Portia’s eyes narrowed. “And it could easily lead into Saturday night and Sunday morning.”
“We’re just friends,” Hallie insisted. Hallie had told Angus she broke up with Peter and they fell into an easy friendship. Angus created delicious dishes with fresh fish and vegetables grown in Max’s greenhouse. He joked about Hallie’s addiction to paella and her inability to pass up chocolate.
“Men and women can’t be friends.” Portia shrugged her slim shoulders. She was still thin, but her body had a new energy.
“Angus seems lonely,” Hallie mused. “He doesn’t have any friends, and I don’t think he has much contact with Max.”
“Have you ever seen Max?” Portia leaned forward. She thought Hallie’s mysterious employer was even sexier than his estate manager.
“I’m sure I will, when I finish the job. I like making my own decisions.”
“Think carefully before you sleep with Angus,” Portia warned. “It’s not good to mix business with pleasure.”
“I’m not going to sleep with him!” Hallie retorted. “We’re not even having dinner. We’re going to tramp around the market and buy red peppers and radicchio.”
“I am going on a date,” Portia said proudly. “And I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“With who?” Hallie asked. Portia hadn’t had any male visitors at the villa, and she seemed to spend all her time rehearsing dance routines.
“Alfonso,” Portia replied, her mouth curling in a smile.
“Alfonso!” Hallie exclaimed. “When did you see him?”
“I ran into him in Como. He’s been stopping by the dance studio.”
“How often?” Hallie inquired.
“Every day,” Portia mumbled. “We grab a quick bite at lunch or a coffee after work.”
“You’ve been seeing Alfonso every day without mentioning it!”
“You didn’t tell me you were playing Peter Rabbit with Angus,” Portia shot back.
Hallie flinched. She hadn’t heard from Peter since he left Bellagio. Sometimes late at night, she searched the Internet for an article he wrote, but when she found one she closed the computer before reading it. She wanted to know Peter was working and happy, but she didn’t want any contact with him.
“Where are you going?” Hallie asked.
“He’s going to surprise me.” Portia hugged her chest. “When Alfonso and Marcus were university students they were so serious. Alfonso wore thick glasses and his hair barely reached his collar. Now he looks like a lion.”
“You like him?” Hallie asked.
“Apparently he had a big crush on me.” Portia pulled a thread on her sweater. “He still talks about politics and finance. But his eyes are like gems, and he has the smoothest hands.”
“You shouldn’t judge a man by his hands,” Hallie said, smiling.
“When we sit at a café, he doesn’t stare at the Swedish au pair at the next table, or make eyes at the waitress,” Portia said seriously. “He only looks at me.”
* * *
Hallie met Angus at the boat dock. He wore khakis and a bulky red sweater. He helped Hallie into the motorboat and they crossed the lake to Tremezzo. Angus tied the boat at the dock and they walked through the narrow alleys.
“In a few months there’ll be snow on the ground,” Angus said as they approached the market. “I lo
ve Lake Como in the winter. It’s so peaceful, like watching a silent movie.”
“Don’t you get lonely?” Hallie asked. Some of the cafés had already moved their tables indoors and the wind nipped Hallie’s cheeks. She slipped her sweater over her head, grateful she had worn slacks and loafers.
“I grew up the middle of seven children.” Angus stopped at a market stall. He sampled sliced honeydew melon and gave a piece to Hallie. “Everyone at the dinner table talked about the Red Sox and the Knicks. I wanted to discuss Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. You can be lonely surrounded by people.”
“My mother tried to be my friend,” Hallie replied. “She didn’t understand I wanted a mother. I had girlfriends at school to paint my nails and listen to music with.”
“Have you talked to her?” Angus asked.
“Not yet.” Hallie gulped. She had discussed Francesca with Angus over fettuccine Alfredo and warm garlic bread. He listened closely, his long legs spread out in front of him.
“You owe it to yourself to call her.” Angus cradled a yellow tomato in his hand. “She may have a good reason for not telling you.”
“The last few weeks with Pliny makes me realize how much I’ve missed.” Hallie sighed. “I showed him how to make a tuna fish sandwich. We discovered we both love caramel toffees, we can finish a box in one sitting.”
“If you talk to Francesca, you might have two parents at the same time.” Angus touched her arm lightly.
Hallie paused, holding a shiny red apple in her hand. She remembered when the other children brought a mother and father to back-to-school night, or had two parents attend a teacher’s conference. Francesca was chic and sophisticated with her big brown eyes and close-cropped hair, but Hallie wished she also had a father who wore a suit and carried a leather briefcase.
Hallie grinned. “You always know what to say.”
“I was the family negotiator.” Angus smiled. “I won the Good Samaritan Award two years in a row in high school, and was voted ‘most likely to change the world.’”
“You can still do that.” Hallie looked up at Angus. He was examining a box of figs, his expression strangely serious. “There’s plenty of time.”
“People don’t learn from the mistakes of previous cultures.” Angus paid for the figs. “Rome burned and it will burn again.”
“I thought you said people are good,” Hallie mused.
“They are inherently good,” Angus agreed. “But there’s too much temptation with the Internet and social media. When people are cruel it has a ripple effect like a tsunami.”
“Speaking of tsunamis, it looks like rain.” Hallie tried to lighten the mood. “We should hurry and finish shopping.”
They bought squash and sweet potatoes, bundles of asparagus and heads of lettuce. Angus asked the prices in Italian and nodded grazie when the sellers insisted he take an extra basket of strawberries or bag of yams.
“What did he say?” Hallie whispered when an old man insisted Angus accept a box of ripe, purple plums.
“He said I was lucky to have such a beautiful girlfriend, and I must spoil her with the sweetest fruits.” Angus carried the plums under one arm.
“Did you tell him I’m not your girlfriend?” Hallie glanced at the man, who bowed and smiled a toothless smile.
“And have him take back the plums?” Angus grinned. “I’ll make a pie with fresh whipped cream.”
“These scarves are gorgeous.” Hallie stopped at a stall where silk scarves blew in the wind like sails. “I must buy one for Portia.”
“I’ll negotiate,” Angus suggested. “They don’t respect you unless you demand a good price.”
Hallie moved on to a stall selling sketches while Angus chatted with the woman selling scarves. She had thought the market only sold fruits and vegetables, but there were stalls displaying silver jewelry, handmade leather purses, and brightly colored clothing.
“She gave me the second one for free,” Angus said proudly, handing Hallie two scarves wrapped in tissue paper. “And she gave me something else.”
Angus pressed a warm lump in Hallie’s arms. Hallie felt something wet burrow into her elbow. She jumped and discovered a puppy with damp fur, a round body, and a tiny tail beating rapidly against her chest.
“Angus!” Hallie exclaimed. “Are you crazy?”
“She insisted I take him.” Angus laughed as the puppy licked Hallie’s chin. “I was afraid she might drown him. He really likes you.”
“I can’t have a puppy!” Hallie protested. “Sophia keeps the villa as pristine as a furniture showroom.”
“I’ll keep him in my rooms.” Angus stroked the puppy’s head. “You can play with him in the gardens after work.”
“But I don’t know my plans.” Hallie let the puppy burrow into her shoulder. She remembered standing in the pet store, hugging Miles, whose paws were as big as her hands. She recalled the way he slept snuggled against her feet, his breathing the last thing she heard before she fell asleep. She remembered playing with him in Constance’s garden, chasing tennis balls and running races across the lawn.
“There’s no hurry, my rooms are as big as most houses.” Angus let the puppy lick his hand. “What will you name him?”
“Milo,” Hallie said quickly, the name arriving fully formed on her lips.
“Come on, Milo.” Angus led them toward the boat dock. “Let’s see if we can find a tennis ball.”
It started to sprinkle as they reached the edge of the village. Angus grabbed Hallie’s hand and they ran, but the drops became heavy steel-colored sheets. They took shelter under a fig tree and Angus took off his sweater and held it over them.
At first when Angus touched her hair she thought it was the rain. She moved closer to the tree trunk, and he rubbed his hands over her shoulders. He put his arms around her, then he tipped her face up to his and kissed her deeply on the lips.
Hallie stood in Angus’s embrace, tasting plums and strawberries. She heard the bleat of the ferry and the sound of raindrops falling on leaves. She smelled Milo’s wet fur, and kept her mouth pressed against Angus’s.
When he finally let her go, her lips engorged and her clothes damp and sticky, the rain had turned to a drizzle. They walked quickly to the boat dock and crossed the lake to Bellagio. Hallie pressed Milo into Angus’s lap and jumped out of the boat. She ran up the steps to the villa, her heart beating wildly.
chapter seventeen
“I’m too old to be a dancer,” Portia groaned. “My body feels like it’s been strung up on a torture rack.”
Hallie turned and glanced at Portia. “You look like you’re fifteen.” They lay on lounges beside the pool, their bodies coated with Acqua di Parma sunscreen.
The rain of the previous weekend had given way to a week of brilliant sunshine. Hallie had worn shorts and tank tops to work all week, staying after work to play with Milo on the lawn. They played hide-and-seek between the statues, and chased a balled-up sock through the rose gardens. Milo seemed to grow every day. His stomach was thicker, his paws bigger, his fur was smooth and shiny.
“I love teaching,” Portia admitted, turning over on her stomach. “But my jetés travel half as far as they used to, and my arabesque looks like a stork.”
“I doubt that.” Hallie laughed. “I’m exhausted from chasing after Milo. I forgot how much work having a puppy is.”
“It looks like it agrees with you.” Portia studied Hallie. “Or maybe it’s Angus, but you’re definitely glowing.”
“Nothing is going on with me and Angus,” Hallie replied, realizing that was not quite true. There was a change in their relationship since their kiss, an electricity that Hallie could not ignore.
* * *
Monday morning had dawned bright and sunny. The view from the ferry was breathtaking, as if someone had taken a brush and wiped away every imperfection. The lake was emerald green and the flowers on the promenade were vibrant shades of purple and yellow. As the ferry approached the Villa Luce, Hallie felt an uneasy
anticipation, as if she was starving, but didn’t know what she was hungry for.
Hallie didn’t see Angus until lunchtime. She made her own salad and took it out on the balcony, sitting alone at the wrought-iron table. She watched Angus cross the lawn. He wore navy shorts, a white T-shirt, and his thick hair fell smoothly over his forehead. He gripped an old sock in one hand, and Milo firmly in the other.
“He kept me up all night,” Angus said grinning, putting the puppy on the tile floor. “And he ate scrambled eggs for breakfast.”
“Sounds like a healthy diet.” Hallie laughed, avoiding Angus’s eyes. Suddenly she could feel his hands on her shoulders, his mouth pressed against hers.
“I’m going to the village to buy dog food.” Angus leaned against the railing. “I reread Tom Sawyer over the weekend.”
“I haven’t read it since high school,” Hallie mused, pushing a baby tomato around her plate.
“I was wrong about Tom and Becky.” Angus hesitated. “They weren’t just friends; he kissed her outside the school house.”
“Oh.” Hallie speared an asparagus tip with her fork.
“After they kissed, she was angry with him, and he spent half the book getting back in her good graces.” Angus sat at the table opposite Hallie.
“Why would I be angry?” Hallie put her fork down. “It was raining, we were excited about Milo.”
“I don’t want to just kiss you on a boat or under an olive tree,” Angus said. “I’d like to get to know you, go out to dinner, stroll along the promenade.”
Hallie felt her stomach tighten, as if someone pulled a string on a corset. She pictured Peter grabbing his backpack and storming out of the hotel room. She remembered feeling like someone had placed a brick on her chest.
“I liked the kiss,” Hallie admitted. “But I’m not ready for dinner and dating.”
“Dinner’s like lunch but with better silverware.” Angus smiled. “We can go to a trattoria in Lenno, skipping the silverware and eating pizza with our hands.”